MAGIC BRUSH

《神笔飞龙传》

Written by FENG Lei

& PIETERSE, Annel Helena

Book One

Chapter One – The Chinese Visitor

Jim lived with his family in a house, in suburb, in a city on the East Coast. Unlike most of
his peers, he had shown little affinity for football, and instead spent his days immersed in
playing adventure computer games, where he traveled through worlds full of secrets and
betrayal, unraveling intricate mysteries. His grades at school were good, especially
history at which he excelled easily, much to the joy of his parents. They had both worked
hard to provide Jim and his younger sister, Alice, with opportunities to further their
intellectual pursuits, and were heartened by the fact their children showed interest in
study.

In the summer of Jim’s fifteenth birthday, his family offered to house a Chinese boy who
was a member of a group of Chinese high school students visiting America as part of an
exchange program arranged by the High School Exchange Association. Jim had been
very disappointed the previous year, when the program had first begun, as he had been
too young to be selected. Since then, he had been working exceptionally hard to improve
his grades, as the selection process was very strict, and only the best students were
chosen for this crazy, exciting adventure, spending six months abroad learning new
languages, making new friends and touring new places.

Jim was very excited and slightly nervous about the arrival of their guest. He knew a few
Chinese people from school, but his family had never had a Chinese guest stay with them,
and they were all looking forward to meeting this mysterious boy. All that they knew of
him was that his name was Long, and that he came from Taiyuan, the capital city of
Shanxi Province. Jim had never heard of the city or the province, and initially he had
mistaken the city for Taiwan, the island off the south coast of China. However, he
realised his error when he looked at a map and found that Shanxi province was in the
North of China, and that Taiyuan was spelled differently from Taiwan, although one
could only see that when one read the names on the map.

In fact, Jim realised suddenly that he knew very little indeed about the country he had
sometimes heard referred to as The Sleeping Giant. He knew the names of the cities
Beijing, Hong Kong and Shanghai, and had often marveled at the sounds of the names as
they rolled around his mouth. He had seen pictures of the Great Wall, and been astounded
at how long it was, as it snaked across the land like one of those Chinese dragons he’d
seen on TV. He knew that great emperors and dynasties lived in the past of this, the
country with the largest population on earth. He had been fascinated by the martial arts
films that had been on circuit at the cinema, and for weeks after his imagination had been
gripped by images of heroic men and women who flew silently through the air like great
colourful birds, as they circled one another in a graceful, deadly dance.

Long at last arrived and although it was his first visit abroad, he spoke English fluently
enough to communicate easily with Jim. He was an introverted boy of few words, but Jim
knew that he was clever from the way his dark eyes twinkled ironically under the straight,
black fringe of hair when Long saw things that amused or pleased him. The two boys
became close friends and were always seen together chatting, playing or going to parties.
They particularly enjoyed telling one another stories, and Jim exchanged his stories of the
war of independence, the civil war, the gold rush, the cowboys in the West and all the
other great legends of his country, for Long’s fascinating tales. Long told of the lives of
the great Chinese emperors, brave princes, villainous traitors, battles, conspiracies,
queens and beauties, all from the long history of China.

As the exchange program was coming to an end, Long readied himself for his return to
China.

“Why don’t you join the program, then you can visit me at my home next year?” Long
suggested to Jim.

Jim was very eager to see his friend again and visit the country that he had learned so
much about. He doubled his effort at school, and was overjoyed when he was chosen in
April to be one of those who were to visit China during the summer break. He was given
off the last day of school, and early on the evening of 5 July, after almost forgetting to
say goodbye to his parents in his excitement to board the plane, he was on his way to
Beijing. As the plane steadied and rose up above the clouds, the mysterious words Long
had spoken before he left echoed through Jim’s mind:

“Perhaps when you come to visit, I will take you to meet my private master, the recluse
of Cool Mountain.”

Chapter Two – Mei Xiang, the Hometown of Coal.

Half a day later, the plane touched down in Beijing and Jim soon found himself seated on
the bus that had been sent to collect the American students to the hotel where they would
spend the night. As the bus pushed and nudged its way through the broad, straight streets,
Jim stared in amazement at many buildings in varied styles all crowding together like the
bustling people moving amongst them. And there were more bicycles than he had ever
seen together! He thrilled at the thought of being in a place so very different from what
he was used to. Nonetheless, his greatest excitement was reserved for the next morning,
when he would finally see his friend again.

The next morning the Chinese hosts, who had come from twelve different parts of the
country, collected their charges. Jim was anxiously casting his eyes across the crowd,
when he caught sight of a distinguished-looking gentleman, who could only have been
Long’s father. He had the same shy, knowing smile and the eyes twinkling at him seemed
very familiar. Jim started moving toward the gentleman, and at that moment Long
stepped out from behind his father and caught Jim’s eye.

“My friend, I am so glad to see you again” said Jim as he reached them, smiling warmly
at his friend as he grasped his hand.

“Jim, I have really been looking forward to your visit. It is good to finally have you here.
This is my father.”

Jim remembered Long telling him that his father was an assistant professor in ancient
cultures at the University.

“It is a great pleasure to meet you, Professor, thank you for having me” he said politely,
extending his hand. The professor looked down at the hand then briefly grasped it before
turning to Long, who rattled off a lilting interpretation of Jim’s words for his father. The
professor turned with a twinkle towards Jim, and said something to him in the same
musical tones.

“My father says you are most welcome, and he is only too glad to return the kind favour
you showed us in hosting me so hospitably” Long said, smiling at his friend’s faint look
of panic. And so, with the Professor smiling at the two chattering boys, they boarded the
long-distance bus, which would take them the 500 kilometers to Taiyuan.

The first third of the journey took them through flat croplands and dotted houses, but Jim
felt himself holding his breath as they entered the mountainous region of the Hometown
of Coal – Shanxi Province. The road was very steep, winding up through old mountains
and terraced fields. However, the bus driver was skillfully negotiating the treacherous
curves, and the bus climbed uphill and strolled downhill, making Jim feel quite dizzy. It
was only as they entered Taiyuan that the terrain leveled out and he saw the mountains in
the distance, lying old and slumbering on the far side of the city. The Professor leaned
over and said something to Long.

“My father asks if you are interested in a brief introduction to the city” Long explained to
Jim.

Jim smiled eagerly at the Professor, nodding. The Professor talked animatedly and Jim
was astounded at the speed with which his friend translated. He learned that Taiyuan was
situated in a basin, surrounded by mountains, with the Fen River – a major branch of the
Yellow river – running all the way across the city centre. The Professor also told him that
Taiyuan was one of the oldest cities in China, and that its old name was City of the
Dragon.

“So your father named you after the city’s special name?” Jim asked with a twinge of
envy as Long smiled and nodded. His own name came from his mother’s maiden name,
James, and he suddenly felt annoyed at its mediocrity. “I like your names so much more
than ours,” he burst out, “do you think I could also have a Chinese name?”
Long’s eyes crinkled. “Of course, but I think we should wait, so that we choose the name
that best suits you” he replied as they pulled up to the bus stop. During the taxi ride to
Long’s home, Jim’s thoughts were on possible new names for himself, but as they drove
through the streets, his attention was once again drawn to the foreign surroundings.
Arriving at Long’s house, Jim was in for another surprise. Long’s parents usually stayed
in the flat provided for them by the university where his father worked, but they had
guessed that Jim would enjoy the experience of living in their traditional Chinese house
instead. He and Long were to stay here, in the Siheyuan, where houses are built around a
square courtyard, forming a compound. Jim took to the space immediately, loving the
sense of community that he felt in the laughter floating across the courtyard in the
evenings, and the muted voices coming and going from the other side of the wall in the
quiet early morning.

During the first week of his stay, Long took Jim to see his school, and to visit some of the
museums. Jim also met Long’s cousins and friends. He had several cousins, the oldest of
whom was studying at a university in Beijing. His favourite cousin was Mei, a girl of
thirteen, who would be starting at junior high school that coming September. From time
to time she would come to Long, asking him for help with some of the more difficult
questions in her holiday homework booklet. Jim liked watching the way Long helped this
shy, beautiful girl. It reminded him of his relationship with his sister, Alice, and he felt
sad for his friend that the country’s strict family planning policy had prevented his
parents from having any more children.

“Don’t you wish you had brothers and sisters?” he asked Long one afternoon as they
were strolling through a beautiful old park.

Long thought for a while before saying “I suppose it would have been nice to have
someone to play with when I was a child, but I never felt lonely. I don’t think that people
miss the things they don’t have, and I grew up alone, playing and learning on my own
while my parents went to work. I never thought about it being different, so I didn’t miss
having brothers or sisters.” Then, giving a secret smile, he added “Besides, I’ve had
interesting things to do to keep me occupied.”

Chapter Three – Cool Mountain.

In the second week of his stay, the temperature gradually started approaching 38° C, and
Jim felt himself becoming progressively more lethargic. Long saw his friend’s discomfort
in the heat, and suggested that they spend the rest of the holiday on Cool Mountain,
which lies to the north of the city. Jim’s ears pricked up at the mention of Cool Mountain,
and he eagerly admitted that he would enjoy a respite from the heat in the cooler climate
of the mountains.

The next day, they boarded a bus for the three hour journey. Jim found himself the object
of scrutiny of a group of young children, which made him rather uncomfortable, as he
wasn’t used to being stared at. Long, sensing his friend’s unease, explained to him that
these children had probably not seen very many westerners before, and that they were
staring out of interest and not because they were rude or hostile. Re-assured, Jim settled
back to enjoy the air-conditioned drive through the scenic countryside, shimmering in the
liquid heat. They drove along a road lined with tall poplar trees, of which the lower parts
of the trunks were all neatly painted white. Jim had never seen trees like this before, and
jokingly asked Long if it was some superstitious tradition to ward off evil spirits. Long
laughed brightly and said,

“No, these trees are protected by the government. They paint them like that so that people
will know that it’s illegal to cut them down.”

“Why are they not allowed to cut them down, are they sacred?”

“They protect the trees next to the roads because these trees enhance the beauty of the
countryside.”

“So trees further away from the roads aren’t protected like this?”

“No, people may use the trees further away from the roads.”

Arriving at their destination during the late afternoon, Jim was relieved to find the air
fresh and cool – a welcome change from hot Taiyuan. Stepping off the bus however, Jim
found that they were suddenly surrounded by several of the locals, who were shouting
loudly, saying “Hello” to him and gesturing enthusiastically. Realising that he and Long
were traveling together, they turned their attention to his friend, speaking rapidly in
Chinese. Long spoke firmly, shaking his head, and proceeded to guide Jim quickly and
safely through the pestering crowd. Once they were beyond the worst of the throng, Jim
asked

“What was that all about?”

“There are several hostels around the station, and the owners hire these local folk to
persuade visitors coming off the buses to stay in their hostels.”

“So why don’t we want to stay in one of these hostels?” Jim asked, curiously.

“It’s very busy around the station, and the prices are often quite high. We are staying at
the place where I stay every time I come here.”

“How many times have you been here?” inquired Jim.

“Oh, I can’t remember. More than ten. Maybe fifteen.”

Surprised by his answer, Jim asked why he had been here so frequently. This time, Long
merely smiled his secret smile, but made no reply. Realising that no further information
would be forthcoming, Jim resigned himself to wait and see, thinking that he was bound
to have an answer in due time.

Within twenty minutes, they had reached the hostel. The room was clean, with two beds
and a bathroom which had hot water available for most of the day.

“So did you stay here last time?”

“Oh no, I never stay in the same hostel twice.”

Another unexpected reply! His Chinese friend was acting very mysteriously, Jim thought.
His behaviour seemed somewhat changed from when they had been in Taiyuan together.
Still, he supposed, it would be best not to worry. Deciding to just trust in himself and his
friend, he took his cue from Long and lay down on his bed for a rest, although he felt
restless, tossing and turning several times before settling down. He was therefore
surprised to find himself quite some time later, being woken gently by Long.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, still quite sleepy, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.”

“It’s okay,” replied Long, “you have traveled far today, and the air up here is different. If
you aren’t used to it, it makes you tired. I think we should get something to eat quickly,
so that we can go to bed early – we need to have a good night’s rest if we’re going
mountain climbing tomorrow.”

As they left the room, Long explained to Jim that, although some of the hostels had their
own small restaurants inside, the one they were staying at did not, and so they had to find
a place to eat. Crossing the street, they walked a short distance until they came to a
restaurant that provided them with a simple supper. Jim was already able to use
chopsticks, although he still struggled with the smooth, round beans and peanuts. After
supper they went back to their room, where Jim, needing no encouragement, threw
himself down on his bed. He was still thinking about the day’s long journey and the
adventure that lay ahead, when sleep stole upon him and it seemed as though he were
back on the bus, rolling along gentle hills and valleys past lanes and lanes of trees with
neatly painted white trunks.

Chapter Four – The North Peak

Jim awoke the next morning to find Long’s bed already made. Surprised, he called into
the bathroom, but his friend wasn’t there either. He checked his watch and saw that it was
just before seven, so he decided to take a shower. Long came back as he was getting
dressed and was pleased to find his friend ready and prepared for the day.

“Where did you go so early in the morning?” asked Jim, wondering how his friend
managed to look so fresh and rested.
“I went out to do some exercise” explained Long. “The fresh air in the mountain valley
makes people healthy.”

“You should have woken me to go with you!” Jim exclaimed indignantly.

Long’s silvery laugh danced in his eyes as he replied “My friend, I spent five minutes
trying to wake you, but you were like the dead. I thought that you might need the extra
hour’s sleep more than the exercise. Besides, today you will be getting more than enough
exercise. Come, if you are ready we should go and eat some breakfast.”

“That sounds great, I’m ravenous.”

“Yes, it is the mountain air that has increased your appetite. We must take something
along for our climb as well.”

After polishing off a substantial breakfast, Jim and Long bought themselves four bottles
of mineral water and four hard-boiled eggs. Thus fortified and prepared, they set off
towards the mountains.

As they walked, Long acted as a guide, explaining that Cool Mountain was one of the
four famous Buddhist mountains in China. It was also called Wutai Shan, which
translated as Five Platform Mountain, because of its five characteristic peaks which were
all flat on top, instead of sharp and rugged.

Their first stop was the White Tower, a white, bottle-shaped pagoda, built as a monument
marking the burial place of a Buddhist monk. The tower was considered to be one of the
most popular cultural sites in the area and thus drew plenty of tourists. This morning,
there were already several milling around, taking pictures and choosing souvenirs from
the makeshift stalls. There were also some horses standing tethered to one side and Jim
saw that three of the tourists had just completed bargaining with a local man and another
group were setting off behind a local guide along an established trail.

Despite its commercial popularity, Jim was still very impressed by the White Tower and
he would have enjoyed spending a bit more time, but Long was anxious to get going
again, urging Jim,

“My friend, we still have a long way to go to the place where I am taking you and we
should try to get the worst of the climb behind us, before it gets too hot.”

Looking up at the mountain, it didn’t seem to Jim as though it was that high to get to the
top. After half an hour’s stringent climbing, however, he had revised his opinion. The
tendons in his legs were burning ropes of fire, and with every step it felt as though he
were dragging a block of lead on each foot. After an hour’s climbing, Jim felt the most
immense sense of relief when the path eventually seemed to even out and the trail snaked
along the upper curves of the mountain. The top of the mountain now seemed just above
their heads, but from what Jim could see, there was no safe way of climbing to the top.
“So, when do we reach the cable car?” he asked, half-joking. The answer was as he had
expected. “There is no cable car. Tourists don’t like coming here – they think there is
nothing to see on top of the mountain except for some clouds and mist. There is also a
small old temple, but most people find it quite disappointing after such a climb.”

After some easy walking, the path gradually ascended again, until Jim found himself
scrambling up a steep incline towards the top of the mountain. Looking down into the
valley, he had a brief sensation that the mountain was a great beast lying sleeping in the
sun. He imagined the beast slowly waking, stretching its legs and then shook his head
sharply and drew in a deep breath to overcome the slight dizziness he was feeling in
looking down from such a height.

When they finally made it to the top, Jim was exhausted and had to sit down on a rock
with his head between his knees as he felt a wave of nausea. Although it was midsummer,
the mountain was so high that a cold, gusty wind was always blowing along, amongst the
rocks and wild grass. There was no-one else up here and the veil of mist was so heavy
that the craggy faces of the surrounding mountains were completely obscured.

Feeling a bit better, Jim raised his head and looked around, but couldn’t see Long
anywhere. He now saw that he was sitting quite close to the temple and, scrutinizing it
closely, he had to agree that after such a climb few things could be more disappointing
than this ugly, run-down building.

“Jim!” a voice from within the building startled him from his observations, and he
followed the sound inside. He found Long, talking to a bent and wizened old man,
wrapped up in old clothes padded with cotton. Seeing his friend shivering in the cold,
clammy temple air, Long helped Jim to a large bed built from mud and bricks.

“What a strange way to construct a bed,” Jim thought to himself. Climbing onto the bed,
he discovered with some pleasure the reason for its unusual appearance. The bed was
quite warm, as it was heated from below by a fire. There was a long, curving chimney at
the back of the temple, through which the smoke was expelled to mingle with the mist on
the mountain top. There was also an inner room, a cotton curtain in the doorway acting as
a divider.

Long waited a few minutes for Jim to warm up before he introduced him to the old monk,
who smiled and put his hands together to show his welcome. Jim was surprised to see
that Long and the old monk were obvious acquaintances, but by now he knew better than
to ask his friend how he could know this old man so well, apparently the only soul on this
deserted mountain. This was indeed a day of mystery and surprise, and he resigned
himself to expecting the unexpected, which was just as well, considering the nature of the
events that followed.

They had been resting a short while, when the monk rose and entered the inner room.
Rising to follow him, Long indicated that Jim do the same. As he lowered the curtain
back over the doorway, Jim was surrounded by a pitch black, in which he could see
nothing, not even his own fingers. Feeling the weight of the black pressing down upon
him, he was suddenly aware of his tired limbs and the foreignness of the entire
experience. An overwhelming desire to start crying assailed him, but in the darkness he
felt his hand being grasped by another and he heard Long whisper beside him,

“Don’t worry Jim. It will be okay in a while, just follow me.”

Somewhere in front of him, Jim heard the creaking of a door. Then Long pulled at his
hand, and he walked forward, holding firmly onto his friend. There was another creak,
this time behind them, but still he could see nothing except the strange darkness, in which
his open eyes made no difference, that had absorbed all sound except the beating of his
heart. He thought that they seemed to be in a tunnel, but could not say for certain.

Feeling his friend hesitate, Long slowed down, then stopped.

“Jim,” he said, “perhaps it would be better if you climbed on my back.” He was offering
to carry him.

Jim felt slightly embarrassed, but he really didn’t want to take any chances in a dark
tunnel.

“Aren’t you tired?” he asked Long “I’m quite heavy, you know. I don’t mind walking,
I’m just not used to not being able to see, so I’m slow.”

“I know, my friend. But I’m not tired, and I can see that you are. You have done very
well on your own today. You have bravely completed a climb that most people do not
have the strong legs or strong will to do. Now I think you should rest.”

Jim had to admit that he felt very unsteady.

“Okay,” he agreed, grudgingly, “but only until I get too heavy and you get tired, then I’ll
walk on my own.”

At that, Long lifted him onto his back and holding him firmly, started walking. He
quickened his steps. It seemed to Jim that his friend was running, faster and faster. Jim
became afraid and clung tightly to his friend’s back. In that darkness he could see nothing,
but he felt the clammy wind swooping past his face and whistling in his ears, the cool
smell of earth and rocks filling his nostrils. As he got over his initial fear, Jim began to
get a sense of the route that they were running along. He could feel that the tunnel was
not straight, as they had to slow down in order to turn corners. Neither was the ground
they were running along even, for several times he felt himself being bounced up and
down steps.

He had no idea how much time had passed – the darkness made it seem as though they
had been running forever – when Long finally stopped.
“Okay! Jim, we have arrived!”

Jim was slightly bemused. He could still not see a thing and he had no idea where it was
they were supposed to have arrived at.

“Where are we?”

“Just get down and I will show you.”

Nervously, Jim got off his friends’ back. His could feel that his hands and feet were icy
cold. He heard Long walking around and a few moments later another door was opened,
and he was pulled through, the door shutting immediately behind him. Then he heard a
scraping sound, and the next moment, just to his left, a small circle of light formed in
which Long’s head and shoulders were floating, appearing disembodied in the darkness.
Long proceeded to light several candles, one by one. As the light grew stronger the
shadows receded to the corners. Gradually, Jim began to make out the shape of heavy
tables. Next, he saw large figures materializing from the darkness, and realized that he
was looking at statues. As Long lighted the last two candles, he saw wonderful paintings
on the walls. They were inside a huge temple.

“This is my master’s place,” Long said, “He is not back yet, so we can have a rest first.”

Chapter Five – Long’s Secret

Jim was shaky and cold after the day’s adventure, and he welcomed the idea of a rest. He
sat down, and Long fetched him a mug of water from beyond the reaches of the light in
some darkened corner of the vast temple.

“Can you see things in the dark?” Jim asked his friend. After the day’s experiences he
wasn’t really questioning the probability anymore, but Long just laughed and said,

“Not really! I am so familiar with the place that I don’t need to see.”

“How is it that you are not gasping for breath after running so far, with me on your
back?”

“I know the Fast-running Kung Fu, which I learned from my master.”

“But why didn’t you tell me until now?”

“I couldn’t, my master does not allow me to show this to the world.”

Then Long told Jim his story:

Nine years ago, when he was seven, his family came to Cool Mountain for the July
summer holidays. During their stay, Long’s parents practiced Taiji every morning in a
small square, which was on the other side of a bridge. While they were practicing, Long
would play under the bridge beside the stream, which was clear and not very deep. One
morning, Long heard someone calling him from above. Looking up, he saw an old man
sitting on the bridge. The old man asked him to pick up his shoe, which had fallen in the
stream. Long found the shoe and climbed up the bank to give it back to the old man, who
smiled at him and then walked away. The next morning, the same thing happened. This
time, when Long brought the shoe up to the bridge, the old man asked him to put it on for
him. Although this was all very strange, Long obliged, as his parents had taught him to be
respectful to the old.

On the third day, he again met the old man, who again dropped the shoe intentionally,
and then asked Long to pick it up. While Long was patiently helping him, the old man
asked about his background but Long, already wary of the stranger, refused to tell him.
Then the old man asked to see his parents. Long led him across the bridge to the small
square, where the old man waited until they had finished their Taiji, and then spent some
time speaking with them. He offered to teach Long for three years, at no fee. His parents,
who were naturally suspicious of allowing their only son to stay with the stranger, were
finally persuaded by the old man. They both believed in Buddhism and trusted the old
man, who promised to have the boy well-trained and well-taught. They arranged that,
after the agreed three year period, Long would return to Taiyuan to stay with his parents
again.

So it was that he spent three years with his master, living in and around this temple,
which had been built inside the mountain about three thousand years ago. Unknown to
most people, the five mountains known as the Wutai Shan were actually the five tombs of
the first Chinese emperors. The north peak, which they had climbed, and under which the
temple was built, was the tomb of Yu the Great, who was famous for his successful
prevention of the annual floods in the Yellow River Valley. During his three years with
the master, Long had learned about traditional Chinese arts, including inner Kung Fu and
meditation to focus his concentration. For most of the time, however, he was learning
how to draw magic paintings.

“Magic paintings?” asked Jim, incredulously. “What do you mean?”

Then Long took from a drawer a brush, which he showed to Jim.

“This is the magic brush” he said, handing it to Jim.

“Can you show me how you draw these magic paintings?” asked Jim

“Yes, but we must wait until tomorrow. I first have to speak with my master.”

“Is your master a Buddhist monk, then?”

“No, he is neither a Buddhist nor a Taoist monk, but he knows all about Buddhism and
Taoism.’

“How long has he been staying here? And why?”

“I don’t know that either. He doesn’t talk about his background, and I never ask.”

As he said this, another door opened elsewhere in the large hall, and an old man walked
in. Long stood up immediately and greeted him in Chinese. Jim also stood up, to show
respect to his friend’s master.

Jim was very curious about the old man, and tried to study him without seeming to stare,
which would have seemed rude. Because of his white hair and moustache, Jim judged the
master to be well into his eighties, but he looked hale and hearty for his age. After Long
had introduced Jim, the old man smiled and indicated that Jim should sit down. He didn’t
seem at all surprised at Jim’s presence – as though he had known that Jim was coming.
He and Long exchanged a few more brief words before the old man left the room again.

Seeing that his friend was struggling to stay awake, Long led the exhausted Jim into a
side room where Jim tumbled onto the bed. He felt himself plummeting towards the arms
of sleep and could offer no resistance to the warm darkness that pulled him close.

Chapter Six – Painted Dragon and the Rock Records of History

The next morning, Jim awoke to find it still quite dark in the room. For a moment, he was
completely disoriented, and had to think hard to recall where he was. He called Long’s
name tentatively and was surprised to find the reply coming from right next to him. Long
lit a candle and Jim saw that he was seated on a chair standing by Jim’s bed.

“Did you have a good sleep?” inquired Long.

Groggily, Jim replied “Yes, very” then squinting at his friend asked, “Why aren’t you
sleeping?”

“I woke up half an hour ago and I’ve slept enough, so I’ve been sitting here waiting for
you to wake up.’

As they were having breakfast, Jim remembered Long’s promise and asked “Will you
show me your magic painting today?”

Long smiled, “Follow me.”

He opened the door through which the master had entered the day before. The room,
which had been in relative darkness since their arrival, was suddenly penetrated by
threads of light and the gurgling sound of water. Right before him was a cave passage. As
they advanced, the sound of moving water became louder and louder. Finally they
stopped in front of what seemed to be a gigantic gate made from rippling liquid. Jim
stared in astonishment at the huge curtain of waterfall, covering the mouth of the cave.
He stepped near the edge and put his hand out into the water, but the force of the falls
was so powerful that his hand was buffeted downwards. Pulling it out, he saw that it was
red, and it stung as though he had slapped it hard against a wall.

“Jim, over here!”

Long had to shout in order to be heard above the thundering falls. He led Jim over to the
wall of the cave and, taking out his brush, began to paint on the rock. This puzzled Jim,
as Long was using no paint. The paint seemed to come from the brush itself and under
Long’s deft, sure strokes there soon appeared on the wall the unmistakable image of a
dragon. The picture was incredibly vivid and lifelike, except that Long had not painted
any eyes.

“Are you ready?” Long shouted, and although he wasn’t sure what he was ready for, Jim
nodded and prepared himself for another surprise.

Long stepped up to the rock and painted in the dragon’s eyes. An overwhelming roar
echoed through the cave, drowning out the thunder of the water, which seemed to
shudder at the sound. In the painting, the dragon lifted its front claw and, to his utter
disbelief, Jim saw the claw being set down on the ground just in front of Long, followed
by the leg. As the dragon peeled off the wall into the cave, Jim realized that he must still
be asleep and that the current events were all part of some fantastic dream. He rubbed his
eyes and when that didn’t seem to wake him up, he pinched his leg until he winced. No,
this was very much real. There was Long, really getting on the back of the dragon,
motioning to him, Jim to come closer.

Gingerly, Jim stepped up to the dragon’s side, and grasping Long’s extended hand, pulled
himself up behind the other boy, who was sitting astride the dragon as though he were
going for an early morning canter on a favourite pony. Settling himself firmly behind
Long, he clasped his arms around Long’s waist, and didn’t need his friend’s reminder to
hold on tightly. When they were securely seated, Long leaned forward and said
something to the dragon who heaved up on his feet and with another loud roar, leaped
forward, bursting through the waterfall in front of them.

Jim couldn’t understand why everything was again dark around him, when sheepishly he
realized that his face was contorted in the effort of squeezing shut his eyes. The dragon
seemed to be slithering like a snake, and Jim wondered why he felt no thudding of the
paws on the ground, when suddenly reality caught up with him. Afraid of what he
suddenly instinctively new to be true, Jim slowly opened his eyes and looked down. Far,
far below him a series of valleys, rolled out beneath the great, flat mountaintops. He was
in the air, flying on a dragon’s back! The thought made his mind reel, and hastily he
looked away, focusing his attention on the back of Long’s head.
They flew around the mountain and stopped, hanging in the air before a huge, smooth
cliff that seemed to be one solid piece of rock. The surface had been neatly divided into a
number of small squares. As they drew closer, Jim saw that inside each square was
carved a painting and some small Chinese characters.

“What is this place?” asked Jim.

“It is called the Rock Records of History. All the great Chinese stories can be found
here.”

“Who made these carvings?” Jim was getting excited.

“Hundreds of people who have lived in that temple carved them for almost two thousand
years. My master is the most recent one.”

“But how did they do it?”

“Like us now, on a dragon’s back!”

“But then…did they all know how to paint magic?” Jim asked, awestruck.

“Yes, they did. It is a skill that has been handed down for many generations.”

“How did they know the stories? I mean, how did they know those stories were true?”

“It was a tradition that Chinese emperors paid close attention to historical records. They
usually selected and appointed great scholars of their time to record them. Those stories
were carved onto stone tablets and stored in different temples across the country. In this
way the records could be safely preserved.”

“But how did the Cool Mountain masters come to hear of these stories?”

“The very first magic painter was a great story lover. He lived about two thousand years
ago, during the Western Han Dynasty. He rode his painted dragon, collecting the stories
that lay scattered in the different corners of the country, and carved them here so that he
could read them. He asked his students to continue with this task after his death and so it
has been carried out until this day.”

Jim gaped at the carvings. Then a thought struck him: “Have you read all those stories?”

“No! But I’ve read a lot of them. Are you interested in reading one of them? I can
translate for you.”

Jim thought for a moment then asked “Which one is your favourite?”
“I have many favourites. Maybe we should go higher then you can see some of the very
first ones.”
Chapter Seven – The Jade of He

Again he leaned over and spoke to the dragon, and immediately it snaked upwards
through the air, until they were hovering near the top of the great stone cliff. The squares
here were obviously much older, and had begun to erode, but the pictures and characters
were still visible. Jim was peering closely at the markings, trying to make out
recognizable shapes, when the carving of an official-looking stamp caught his eye.

“Long, what is this one?”

“That’s the official jade seal used by the emperors.”

“Can you translate those carved words?”

Long leaned over and started reading:

“ ‘During the Spring and Autumn period’ – that’s about 2500 years ago – ‘the jade expert
Bian He found a rock in the Jing Mountain in Hubei Province. Sensing that the rock was
not a common stone, he was convinced that it must have some treasure inside, so he
presented the rock to the King, who summoned his best royal expert to judge its value.
This expert looked closely at the stone and examined it carefully, then declared that it
was no more than an ordinary stone of no value whatsoever. The king was furious and
ordered that Bian He’s left foot be cut off, as punishment for trying to cheat him.

When the old king died and his son succeeded to the throne, Bian He again presented the
treasure to the king. Another famous expert was summoned to make his appraisal, and
again the stone was found to be worthless. The new king followed his father’s example,
and ordered Bian He’s right foot to be cut off.

A third king succeeded to the throne and again Bian He wanted to present his treasure.
However, as both his feet had been cut off he had no means of going to see the king.
Saddened beyond words at this, Bian He began to cry. He cried until his tears ran dry and
then he cried blood, until eventually he was completely blinded.

When this news reached the new king, he sent people to ask Bian He why he was so sad,
as many had suffered the same punishment before, but none had cried themselves blind.
Bian He replied, saying that he cried not for the punishment meted out against him, but
for the wrong judgment of the real treasure.

Curious, the king called for the rock to be broken and discovered amongst the shards of
worthless stone a large piece of beautiful, rare jade. Realising that Bian He had been done
a great injustice the king rewarded him richly, also punishing the two experts who had so
incorrectly judged the value of the stone.’”

“And then the jade was made into a seal?” asked Jim, fascinated.
“Yes,” replied Long, “The jade was then made into an imperial seal, which was used by
the emperors for more than 2000 years and was the cause of much strife. Many people
died in an attempt to possess it. It has been called the Jade of He to commemorate the
person who first discovered it.”

“I don’t suppose the seal still exists?”

“I don’t know. Some people say it is in a museum in Hang Zhou on exhibition, but others
claim it was destroyed by the last emperor of the Ming Dynasty. He hanged himself in a
park in Beijing as the insurrection army was approaching the capital.”

“That is really sad” said Jim with a sigh.

“Yes, it was.”

They both stared contemplatively at the fading carving depicting the tragic story. It was
almost lunchtime, and the sun was glittering brightly in the summer sky. However, Jim
did not feel very hot, as moving mists and jutting trees kept them shaded. Thinking that
they must be very high above the ground for it to be this cool, Jim thought it best not to
look down.

“Do people know about this cliff and that waterfall?” he asked suddenly.

“As far as I know, my master and I are the only people who know – and now you, of
course.”

“But it’s so beautiful here! Why do people not come to enjoy the scenery?”

“Because they cannot see it. In the eyes of ordinary people, it is a wild valley with vast,
dry cliffs. No trees, no waterfalls.”

“But how is that possible?”

“My master knows some powerful magic, which he learned from his masters, which they
learned from their masters. They rode their dragons and painted a huge screen over this
area to fool people’s eyes. It is called the Eye-Fool-Magic. So no one can see its original
appearance, not even from an airplane. But the screen must be repainted once a year, as it
becomes thinner and thinner as time goes by.”

Another thought struck Jim. “Long,” he asked excitedly, “Long, is it possible to see the
places where these stories happened?”

“Yes, of course, let’s go see something new” laughed Long, “Hold on tight!”
Chapter Eight – The Calendar of Heng

The dragon flattened its ears and Jim felt them surge forward. In a moment, they were on
the other side of the mountain and in the distance the glint of reflected sunlight caught
Jim’s eye. As they came closer, he could make out what seemed to be an enormous clock,
hanging against the cliff. The object was circular, and Jim judged the diameter to be
about five meters. However, it was unlike any clock that Jim had ever seen, with ten
characters carved around the perimeter, and another four in the middle.

“This is called the Calendar of Heng and was made about two thousand years ago” Long
explained. “The inventor was a famous scientist called Zhang Heng, who also invented
many other wonderful things, besides this calendar.”

“But what was it used for? Is it still being used?”

“Yes, we still use it and I believe it can still be used for at least another thousand years.
You see those characters? They’re the numbers one to ten in Chinese, written in the
ancient way. The numbers in the center are two zero zero five, representing this year. If
you come to see it next year, the last number will be six.”

“Who changes it?”

“Nobody! It changes automatically. Heng was such a clever man to make this work for so
many years. It is still a mystery.”

Long paused for a reflective moment, pondering the large clock.

“The most marvelous thing is that it is also a turning plate of time and space” he
continued, “It can make you go back thousands of years to see historical events as they
take place. You can experience how people lived in the past.”

Despite everything that had happened so far, Jim was very skeptical about this latest
development.

“You’re saying that Heng invented a time machine? And that this clock here can
transport me into history? It’s hard to believe that such a thing exists.”

“Of course. But it’s the truth. I’ve been back in history several times.”

“But that must be the most wonderful experience!” cried Jim, full of excitement “Can I
also have a try?”

“We can, but not today. It is a bit late. We can do that tomorrow if you’d like.”

Jim could think of no better way to spend the next day, and instantly agreed. They turned
and flew back to the temple, the valleys below softened by the special shadows of late
afternoon summer light. As they approached the waterfall, Jim recalled the force of the
water on his hand earlier, and suddenly wondered how they managed to get through the
water the first time without getting wet. His curiosity was quickly satisfied, for, as they
came up to the falls, the dragon spat out a searing ball of flame that instantly evaporated
the water in its path. Following right behind the fireball, the dragon dropped through the
temporary gap in the water.

The dragon landed softly on the floor of the cave, and sank down into a crouch, allowing
the two boys to slide off its back onto the floor. Long then took out his magic brush again
and pointing it at the dragon, pressed something on the shaft which produced a flood of
red light. The light seemed to stream off every point of the dragon, the beams converging
on the cave wall just behind it, to form the outline of the dragon. Then the outline seemed
to suck in the dragon, leaving its original form on the wall. Fascinated, Jim continued to
stare at the sketch of the now eye-less dragon until, after a short while, it faded off the
rock face.

Chapter Nine - The Story of Jie Mountain

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, they again went out on the back of the dragon.
As they were passing the Rock Records of History, Jim asked

“Long, are there any interesting stories here about your province?”

“About Shanxi? Yes, certainly” he replied. “Do you see that carving with the pair of
shoes? That tells the story of how Jie Mountain got its name.”

“When did this happen?”

“The mountain got this name in 636 BC. Shanxi was then called the Kingdom of Jin.
Chong’er was a young prince of Jin. After his father’s death, his stepmother plotted to
have Chong’er killed, as she wanted her own son to be the new king. Accompanied and
protected by some of his loyal ministers, Chong’er managed to flee the capital, spending
the next nineteen years in exile.

Amongst these loyal ministers was a man called Jie, who believed in action, rather than
words. Once, when they could find no food, Jie saved Chong’er from starvation by
cutting a piece of flesh from his own leg and cooking it for the prince to eat.

In 636 BC, after nineteen years of exile, Chong’er succeeded in regaining power and
claimed the throne. Awarding the ministers and soldiers who had stood by him so loyally
during his years in exile, he gave them lands, beautiful women, gold and horses to thank
them. Strangely though, he forgot to reward his most faithful minister, Jie, who had
chosen to stay home quietly, instead of striving for fame and gain under the new king’s
rule. Not wishing to work together with those ministers who seemed to be enjoying their
new riches a bit too much, Jie decided to leave the capital. He retreated to the mountains,
where he lived with his old mother as a recluse.
One day, Chong’er suddenly remembered Jie and realizing that he had never awarded this
most loyal of his ministers, set off for Jie’s house. He was greatly saddened when they
arrived to find the house deserted, empty of all save a poem inscribed on the wall. From
the poem, the king learned that Jie was living in the mountains, and he gave orders for the
mountain to be scoured. Thousands of soldiers searched for days, without result. The king
refused to give up his idea and taking still more soldiers with him, he set off for the
mountain in person to search for Jie.

When they still did not find him, a minister suggested setting the mountain on fire from
three directions and then guarding the only openings, through which Jie would have to
come out. Chong’er agreed to this, and the mountain was set alight. The enormous fire
raged for three days and nights and the king and his men waited and waited until the
orange monster had finally died down, leaving only charred, smoking earth behind on the
mountainside. Jie had still not appeared.

Frustrated, Chong’er had his soldiers search the mountain again. Finally, under a tree
blackened and gnarled by the flames, they found the remains of two human bodies. The
king burst into tears, overcome with regret at ordering his soldiers to start the fire which
killed his old, loyal minister instead of driving him out.

To commemorate Jie, the king had the name of the mountain changed to Jie Mountain.
He also made a rule that every year, on that day, no one in his kingdom was allowed to
build a fire. Therefore people had to eat cold food, and the day became a festival day
called Cold Food Day.

Before returning to his capital, the king ordered his men to cut a piece of wood from the
tree under which Jie’s body was found. He had this made into a pair of wooden shoes,
which were put in his living room. Every day when he rose and saw the shoes, he would
call out ‘Zuxia’, meaning ‘under your foot’. Now the word is used as a polite form of
address between two friends, to show respect.”

As Long finished telling the story, Jim felt a great sense of pity. “Another sad story!” he
cried out with a sigh. Long also appeared depressed, staring dejectedly in front of him.

“What day is this festival?” asked Jim after a while.

“Sometime around mid-spring, the date isn’t fixed.”

“And do people still eat cold food on that day?”

“In some areas. The tradition also spread to Korea – they still eat cold food on that day as
well.”
The story of Jie Mountain had so engaged Jim that he had momentarily forgotten the real
reason for their outing. Now, as he became aware of the heat of the climbing sun on his
back, he asked Long whether they were still going to the Calendar.

“Of course, it is our major plan for today!” Long replied and thus filled with renewed
excitement, they were carried off by the dragon towards the giant clock.

Chapter Ten – Back in Time

Hovering in front of the clock, Jim and Long regarded the large metal disc.

“So, how does this work?” asked Jim.

“It can only be used by one person at a time. First you must press the round button in the
middle three times. The calendar will automatically adjust itself to a horizontal position,
facing up. Next, you have to dial the numbers representing the year you wish to go back
to. The number appears on the stone close to that round button. Then you sit down in the
middle with the year number right in front of you. When everything is ready, the last
thing to do is press those numbers on the stone one by one.”

“Shall we try it now?”

“Which year would you want?”

“I don’t want any more sad stories,” replied Jim firmly, “Did you have rich people?”

“Yes, the richest person in Chinese history was a man named Shen. He lived about 250
years ago.”

“Can we go and see him?”

“Why not? Maybe we will be able to see his fortune, if we are lucky.”

“Okay! Let’s go then. Which year should I choose?”

“1760 should be about right, I think.”

So, carefully following Long’s instructions, everything happened exactly as Long had
explained. Just as Jim was about to complete the final step, Long gave him a brown pill
to put in his mouth.

“It will help you to not feel dizzy while the calendar is turning” he explained.

“How many turns will it make?” asked Jim

“It turns once for each year back. You have chosen 1760, so it will make 245 turns.”
“That sounds like a lot! When do you come?”

“I will come right after you. When you arrive, just stay where you are and wait for me.”

Jim pressed the numbers one by one. When he finished, he felt the calendar under him
start turning around in an anticlockwise direction. It turned faster and faster until the
landscape around him blurred into an indistinct mass, but he did not feel giddy at all. The
pill in his mouth was really working. He closed his eyes and waited until the calendar at
last stopped turning. Opening his eyes, he found himself sitting on a flat, smooth rock. He
looked around. It was the top of a mountain.

After some time, Long also arrived.

“So, where do we find Shen?” asked Jim.

“He lived in Beijing” replied Long.

“How far is that from here?”

“500 kilometers”

“Are we going to fly there?”

“No, I thought we should walk”

Jim gaped. “What do you mean? It would take us weeks to walk that far!”

Shaking his head and smiling at his friend, Long once again took out the magic brush.
Stepping up to Jim, he began painting swiftly around the outline of Jim’s body.

“What are you doing?” asked Jim, confused.

“I am painting an invisible suit onto you, so that ordinary people cannot see you.”

Having completed the suit, Long next painted a pair of boots. He explained to Jim that
these were the Marvelous Traveler boots and that they could travel up to 1000 kilometers
a day.

“But where is your suit and your pair of Marvelous Travelers?” asked Jim curiously.

“I don’t need them. Remember, I know magic” replied Long.

With Jim thus prepared for the journey, they set off for Beijing, walking so fast that the
surrounding landscape sped by and he could not see much of anything. He was thrilled
however, to find that they did not need to follow the normal path, as they could walk
anywhere, including the surface of water. Striding across fields and mountains, rivers and
lakes, the journey hardly took any time at all, and within three hours, they had reached
Beijing.

The Beijing Jim now saw was vastly different from the city that had so astounded him on
the day he had arrived in China. Gone were the tall buildings, the millions of bicycles, the
never-ending stream of cars. The streets were similarly filled with people and the same
kind of energy and bustle was constantly moving along on its own mysterious current,
but he did not recognize the strange clothing, and everyone wore their black hair in long
plaits. Dazed by the experience, Jim could only stare as Long led him through the busy
streets towards Shen’s house. They arrived at the mansion just as it was getting dark and
entering through the main gate, they slipped in, passing so closely by the guards that Jim
could make out the gold detail embroidered in fine stitching around the cuffs of their
tunics.

Chapter Eleven – The Treasure of Shen

As they passed through the outer compound, Long told Jim about Shen, who, as a young
man had been one of the emperor’s servants. He was very clever, which enabled him to
be a successful lackey to the emperor. The emperor became so fond of Shen that he
trusted him unduly, so much so that he had one of his daughters marry Shen’s son.

As Shen’s influence in the emperor’s court grew, so did his power. However, being
exceptionally greedy, he used this power in order to gain more and more treasure. Trying
every means to get what he liked, he even resorted to bribing the young eunuchs who
served the emperor, thus stealing rare and valuable treasures from the royal palace.

“Did the emperor never become suspicious?’ asked Jim.

“No, he trusted him. But when the next emperor took the throne, he had Shen
investigated and the possessions found in his mansion were equal to ten years’ state
revenue – about eight hundred million taels of silver. That is the treasure we are going to
try and find.”

“But where can we find this treasure?”

“I only know that he kept his riches safe in an underground warehouse. But he had
several similar warehouses built to fool thieves who would try to steal his treasure. Also,
he frequently changed his guards and servants so that no one was sure how wealthy he
was. He was the only person who kept full records of his wealth.”

“But how can we find that warehouse?”

“We can try by checking all of those houses” Long suggested, “It should not be difficult
as no one can see us.”
As they were deliberating where they should start their search, their attention was drawn
to the arrival of a man in official-looking robes, accompanied by two servants, each of
whom was carrying a beautifully engraved box. Guessing that he must have come to meet
Shen, the two boys followed quietly at a distance.

The official was led into a room that looked like a very large living-room. Long gestured
to Jim that they had to be silent and the two boys slipped into the room behind the small
group just as the official was greeting Shen. He then presented Shen with the two
beautiful boxes and, although Jim struggled to follow the intricacies of their exchange, he
gathered that the man had come to ask Shen for help in securing a position for his son in
the emperor’s court.

Shen ordered the servants to open the boxes and Jim saw his face light up as they lifted
out an exquisitely engraved snuff bottle of the purest gold and a large night-luminous
pearl that seemed to glow in the dusk that was filling the room. Clearly very pleased with
the gifts, Shen promised his help to the man, who after thanking him profusely, bowed
low and left the room with his two servants.

Shen then proceeded to examine the two rare objects carefully. As Jim watched him
playing with these two new additions to his wealth, he was reminded of a boy he had
known in kindergarten, who, much bigger than most of the other children, used to bully
them into giving up their toys or sweets to him. He would then retire to a corner of the
playground or classroom to gloat over his booty with the same absorbed stare and slack
smile that Jim now recognised on Shen’s face.

After a while, Shen seemed to tire of his game and calling in his servants, he ordered
them to deposit the treasure where it would be kept safe and well. Two servants stepped
up to their master and taking the boxes from him left the room. Long indicated to Jim that
they should follow, and the two boys shadowed the servants down corridors, through
several gates and yards before coming to a stop in front of a black iron door, watched
over by two armed guards.

Exchanging a few brief words with the servants, one of the guards proceeded to take out
a large key, unlocking the door through which the servants were then allowed to enter.
Long and Jim kept in step with them, following them down a set of stairs, lit by oil lamps
fixed along the wall. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves in a long
hall. One of the walls was lined with six iron doors, all looking exactly the same. After
carefully fidgeting with a metal object on the nearest door, the servant with the snuff
bottle went inside, while the other entered another door after similarly operating some
device. Jim and Long now realised that different objects were stored in different
warehouses.

Jim made to follow the servant with the snuff bottle, but Long pulled him back. As the
two servants came out and closed the doors, Long pulled Jim by the hand and they
ascended the stairs again, exiting the guarded door just ahead of the servants. When they
had moved out of earshot, Jim gave vent to his agitation, asking a little crossly
“Why didn’t we get in and have a look?”

“I was afraid that you would be locked inside if you did not come out before the servant
and I don’t know the magic to open that door or to walk through walls” came the calm
reply.

Jim slumped against the wall, looking crestfallen. Seeing his friend’s disappointment,
Long had an idea.

“Let’s have some fun with that greedy Shen” he suggested.

“How?” asked Jim, his curiosity piqued.

“Follow me, I’ll show you.”

Thinking again of his childhood bully and the stupid greedy look on Shen’s face, Jim was
eager to see what trick his friend had in mind. He followed Long back to the large living-
room where they had first seen Shen, who had by now retired to bed. Going out through
another door, Jim found that the living-room opened onto a compound with a large house.

“This is where Shen’s old father lives” Long explained to Jim in a whisper. “If anything,
his love of treasure is even greater than that of his son.”

Taking out his magic brush, Long painted a golden jar with characters reading “Magic
Jar” carved on the surface. Then the two boys found a spot where they could observe the
action that followed and waited for their gift to be discovered. Sure enough, it wasn’t
long before a couple of servants passing through the compound came across the jar. One
ran to find the old man, who was just getting ready for bed, and reported the strange find.

Hearing the word “gold”, the old man immediately got up from his bed and hurried out,
forgetting in his haste to put on his shoes. His eyes widened when he saw the gold jar,
which was almost as tall as he. Next to the words “Magic Jar”, there now appeared a row
of tiny characters, which were too small for the old man to read, so he ordered lamps to
be brought.

Under the light, he saw that the small characters were instructions explaining how the jar
was to be used. When he had finished reading these instructions, the old man became
very excited, and ordered a piece of silver to be brought to him immediately. The
servants, who by now numbered quite a crowd, gathered round curiously to see why the
old man was so agitated, and were astonished to see him drop the silver into the jar and, a
moment later, take out ten pieces of silver one by one.

“Not only is the jar made of precious gold, it can also copy anything you put inside!
Truly, this is a most wondrous gift” they murmured amongst themselves, speculating as
to where it could have come from.
Wild with joy, the old man ordered a piece of gold to be put in the jar and, sure enough, a
moment later he took out ten more pieces. He hurried back to his room to fetch his most
precious stone, which he put in the jar and Jim could have sworn that there were tears in
his eyes as he saw eleven shiny stones appear in the jar.

“How wonderful! How marvelous!” the old man was repeating over and over to himself
as he bent down with a shaky hand to collect his stones. One, two, three…not paying
attention to himself, he lost his balance and fell into the jar just as he was collecting the
last stone. With his bare feet kicking feebly at the lip of the jar, the old man struggled to
free himself, but to no avail. His servants, panicking, pulled at his legs and finally
managed to pull him free. As the greedy old man tumbled to the ground in the most
undignified fashion, with his robes pulled up and his hair disheveled, an identical pair of
old bare feet were kicking at the edge of the jar and the servants started to pull him out
again.

Woken by the commotion, Shen came out to see what was going on. Imagine his surprise
when he saw eleven identical old men standing before him!

“Which one of you is my father?” he asked in confusion.

“I am” answered eleven identical voices.

“But which one of you is real?” he cried.

“I am” replied the voices in unison.

Dumbfounded, Shen stared at the sight before him, not knowing whether to laugh or to
cry. Seeing the confused, bewildered look on Shen’s face, Jim could not help himself and
burst into laughter. At the sound of his laugh, everything suddenly disappeared.

“What happened?” he asked Long, still laughing.

“Your laughter destroyed the magic” replied Long with a smile of his own.

“That was such a great trick! Did you see the look on his face?”

Glad that his friend had liked the trick, Long suggested they find a place to sleep. It was
almost midnight, and Jim soon felt himself feeling quite sleepy. They went into the
garden, where they spent the rest of the night sleeping soundly, curled up on the soft,
fragrant grass.

Elsewhere in the mansion, Shen was not having such a peaceful rest. He suddenly awoke
with a start from a dream he had been having. For the rest of the night, he could not sleep,
as each time he started dozing off the same dream would recur, and he repeatedly found
himself faced with eleven old fathers who kept quarreling with each other, as each tried
to prove that he himself was the original.

Chapter Twelve – Flying General Guang shoots a tiger

The daily business of the servants in the mansion had just begun and an early climbing
sun was stealing into the patch of garden where they were sleeping, when the two boys
awoke. Their hungry stomachs soon informed their noses where the kitchen was to be
found, and as no one could see them, they helped themselves liberally to a wonderful
breakfast. When the gate of Shen’s mansion was opened, they walked out into the streets
unchallenged and headed back in the direction they had come. They had more than
enough hours for the journey back, so the first part of their journey proceeded at a
leisurely pace. As they walked, the boys were observing their surroundings and chatting.

“What was the most powerful weapon in ancient China?” asked Jim.

“The most effective weapon was the bow and arrow, because it could kill enemies from a
distance” replied Long.

“Then who was the best archer?” asked Jim, his interest aroused.

“I think Guang was the best. He lived about two thousand years ago, during the Western
Han Dynasty. He was a master of Kung-Fu and no one could match his skill with the bow
and arrow. Many times he was sent by the emperor to fight back invaders from the north
and he defeated them almost every time. His fast-flying arrows were feared by all.”

Excited, Jim wanted more detail and asked eagerly “What could he do? Why was he so
good?”

“His shooting was not only very accurate, it was also very powerful. He was so brave that
he often went out to hunt tigers that had killed people in isolated mountain areas. If we
hurry a bit, I will show you something…”

Lengthening their steps, the boys sped up their walk and soon they arrived in a mountain
forest where wild grass and rocks spread out everywhere underneath and beyond the trees.

“See,” said Long, “this is the place where many tigers and wild animals lived in Guang’s
time.”

Nervously looking around, Jim slowed his steps and lowered his voice as he asked “Are
there any tigers here now?”

Just at that moment Long stopped dead in his tracks and grabbing his friend’s arm, he
pulled him up short, whilst pointing to a spot in the distance, whispering fiercely “Look!”
Freezing in his steps, Jim could only stare at the beast that was crouching less than a
hundred meters away. “A tiger!” he whispered tremulously.

“Don’t be afraid” whispered Long, “just follow me.”

Taking his arm, Long led Jim around to the left. Luckily, the huge animal apparently had
not seen them, for it did not move as they carefully neared it from behind. As they got
closer, Jim realised that his friend had played a trick on him, for the menacing tiger was
no more than a very big rock that, from a distance, appeared to be one of those large
beasts crouched low, ready to pounce. Laughing at his friend’s chagrin at being tricked,
Long led Jim up to the rock. Jim saw some Chinese characters carved on the surface, but
he did not recognise any of them. Resting for a moment in the shade cast by the rock,
Long continued the story of Guang.

“Guang was also very clever. Once, he and his men fell into an ambush of enemy troops
so large that his army was outnumbered five to one. After a fierce battle, he was wounded
and finally captured. Guang pretended to be very weak and the enemy leader did not have
him tied, but loaded him on a stretcher, which was carried by four soldiers. As they were
making their journey to the enemy’s camping ground, Guang waited for a chance and
then jumped up and pushed a rider off his horse.

Before the enemy realised what was happening, he had nimbly grabbed a bow from one
of his nearby captors and was speeding off on horseback. The enemy leader was furious,
and ordered two hundred men to give chase. Waiting until the leaders in the chase were
close to him, Guang rapidly fired off eleven of the twelve arrows in the quiver, killing the
eleven closest pursuers. Before he had slotted the twelfth arrow into place, the pursuing
troops fell back, giving up the chase. None of them wished to be the twelfth victim.”

“Is that how accurately he could shoot his arrows?” asked Jim in amazement.

“Yes. And like I said, he was incredibly powerful. Another time, Guang and his soldiers
were on their way back from battle when they saw a tiger just ahead of them, ready to
pounce. Guang hardly hesitated and, pulling an arrow from his quiver he aimed at the
tiger and shot the arrow deep into its body, but the tiger didn’t make a sound, and nor did
it move. The men carefully circled the tiger and approached it from behind. As they came
closer, they realised that what had scared them as a vicious tiger was only a rock. What
really shocked them, though, was to see that Guang’s arrow had penetrated the hard rock
up to about three inches.

Guang himself was surprised at his own strength and later he returned to the spot from
where he had fired the original arrow and tried to repeat that shot. This time, however,
none of his arrows would cut into the rock and he found them all lying scattered around
the rock. Some were broken in the shaft and others had just bounced away, but not one
had penetrated the rock again. It was said afterward that, because Guang had believed he
was shooting a fierce tiger, he had collected and focused most of his energy into the shot
and so managed a shot powerful enough to penetrate solid rock. The story went near and
far and made his enemies more frightened at his magic shooting.”

“And is this that rock?” asked Jim.

“Yes, it is. These characters read: TIGER-ROCK SHOT BY FLYING GENERAL

GUANG.”

They continued on their way and Jim wondered aloud how people like Guang managed to
develop their skill with the bow and arrow so well.

“They usually did two kinds of training” replied Long. “The first was a special kind of
physical exercise that they did to make their muscles hard. Then they also had to train
their eyesight and concentration. It took years of training to become a good archer.”

“How did they train their eyesight?”

“That was very hard training. The trainee was required to stare at a small insect hanging
in the air. He had to do this from a certain distance for three hours every day whilst also
focusing his mind on the insect. The training lasted for three years. When it was done, the
small insect would look like a big wheel in the eyes of the trainee and in this way, any
target became easier for him to aim at.”

“Long, would it be possible for us to see a good battle with the calendar? That would
really be interesting” suggested Jim.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Let’s hurry back to the mountain” Long agreed.

Chapter Thirteen – Clever General Xun borrows arrows.

In no time at all they were back on the mountain top from where they could use the magic
calendar. Going first again, Jim settled himself on the clock-face.

“What kind of battle would you like to see?” asked Long.

“I don’t mind, you decide. Any will do for me.”

“Okay. Then I think we should go to the battle of Yongqiu.”

“When did that take place?”

“In 756, during the Tang Dynasty.”

Jim dialed 756 on the clock, and it started to turn. It turned and turned for a very long
time and Jim was worrying that something might have gone wrong, when he realized that
he was going so far back in time that the clock had to turn 1249 times.
He waited on the mountain top for a while and when Long arrived they headed east, to
Yongqiu, a small city in Hebei province. They arrived in the late afternoon and Jim had
been worried that the soldiers would be too tired for them to see any real fighting that day,
but it seemed as if the two sides were attacking and defending as ferociously as ever.

Climbing up a tall tree, Jim and Long had a very good view of the battle ground and
could follow the action on both sides. The soldiers outside had surrounded the city and
far outnumbered those inside, but the strong high walls and gates of the city were
protected by archers. Rocks thrown and arrows shot from the battlements continued to
hail down on those below.

“Why are they storming the city?” asked Jim.

“They’re rebel troops. Inside are government troops, led by the magistrate, Xun.”

“Those arrows and stones from the battlements are certainly working very well”
commented Jim, surveying the battlefield strewn with broken bodies. Occasionally, a
body that had seemed dead would let out a low, anguished moan and feebly try to sit up,
to crawl away from the smell of blood and the inevitable flies, then slump back down as
the pain of their wounds overwhelmed them. Jim felt queasy as he saw a man who was
trying to pull an arrow from where it was lodged deeply in his thigh. He was repulsed by
all this death, but he felt inexplicably compelled to keep watching, to see the final
outcome. He found that if he concentrated hard enough on the archers lining the
battlements, the dead on the battlefield shifted out of focus and he didn’t need to look at
them.

“What happens when Xun’s archers use up all their arrows?” he asked “Will the city be
taken over then?”

“Possibly. But Xun is a very smart man. He will find some solution.”

Night began to fall and neither side had gained any serious advantage, so they stopped
fighting and waited for the next day. As the darkness rolled across the plains, an uneasy
quiet settled over the battlefield. The men were tired and except for those who had to
stand guard, most took the opportunity to sleep.

Just after midnight, a cry went up amongst the rebels. The government troops were
lowering soldiers down the outside of the wall! Hastily, the rebel archers assembled and
their arrows flew furiously at the descending soldiers. The shooting continued for several
hours, until at last, in the cool hours of the dawn, the rebel troops began to see their
targets more clearly. All along the walls, bristling with their arrows, were not men, but
scarecrows, that were now hastily being pulled up by the soldiers inside. A taunting cry,
“Thank you for the arrows!” could be heard all along the wall.
Jim understood the strategy immediately. By sending down the decoys late at night, Xun
had made use of the confusion caused by lack of light and sleep, and succeeded in
borrowing arrows from his enemies.

“What a clever commander!” he exclaimed in admiration.

The battle continued for the whole of the next day, but with their supply of arrows
replenished, the government troops were easily able to hold off the rebels for another day
and many more soldiers were killed. Jim and Long moved around, viewing the fighting
from three different directions, but it all looked the same. Another day passed without
result. As evening fell and the rebels prepared for another rest, Jim became anxious to
know the outcome.

“Can’t you just tell me who wins? I don’t think I can handle the suspense!” he asked
Long.

“Just wait a little while longer, then you will see” came the familiar reply.

Jim waited impatiently, and his nervousness was fuelled by the palpable tension of the
men on the battlefield, who were anxiously awaiting another ploy. Sure enough, just after
midnight, the scarecrows were once again lowered down. This time, the rebels were
prepared for the trick and refusing to be fooled into lending their enemy more arrows,
they took no notice of the scarecrows. But clever general Xun had outwitted them once
more, for in the dark shadows along the outer wall, the scarecrows lifted their chins and
raising their limp arms, loosened themselves from the ropes. Then the shadows melted
away from the walls and solidified into hundreds of real soldiers, who charged the rebels,
most of whom had settled in to sleep.

As the confused rebels were still trying to determine what was happening, the four great
gates opened and government cavalrymen charged out, attacking the unprepared rebels
from all directions. What a crushing blow! The rebels were routed and Jim was very
impressed by the success of this wonderful strategy, greatly admiring Xun’s brilliant
tactic. However, the fighting was chaotic, with the government soldiers viciously
attacking the disorganized rebels.

“I wish they didn’t have to fight so fiercely” murmured Jim, who was again becoming
aware of the bloodstained grass and stones and the dead and dying men. Some of the
bodies had been lying out on the field for almost four days, and every now and then the
cool night wind carried past him the tang of decay.

“I think I’ve had enough of fighting” he told Long. Taking out his brush, Long started to
paint wind, strong wind, which blew up plenty of sand, dust and dead leaves, forcing the
government troops to stop chasing. When the wind stopped blowing, the rebels had
already run too far away to be caught. Xun’s soldiers returned to the city in triumph.
Chapter Fourteen – Dingbo and the Ghost

To Jim’s great relief, all was now peaceful as they waited for daylight to come. He was
still thinking of those dead soldiers and felt immense pity for them. He wondered at the
cause that these men had been willing to die for, and hoped that they had given up their
lives for something that had been of worth to them.

“Do you think those dead bodies will turn into ghosts and take revenge later?” he asked
Long, unexpectedly. Taken aback by the question, Long was silent for a while, carefully
thinking about it.

“No” he replied eventually.

“Don’t you believe in ghosts?” continued Jim.

“No. Do you?”

“No, but some people might” replied Jim, and was quiet again.

Seeing that his friend needed to be cheered up, Long said, “I know many ghost stories
though.”

“Yes, me too. My friend’s grandmother used to tell them to us.”

“But I am sure the ghost stories I know are very different from the ones she told you”
coaxed Long.

Realising that his friend was probably right and eager to take his mind off the dead men,
Jim replied “In that case, would you tell me a good one?”

Glad to see the melancholy lifting from his friend, Long eagerly agreed and began his
story:

“Dingbo was a young man from Nanyang. One night he was walking alone along the
road on his way home. It was a very dark night and the road was deserted. He still had a
long way to go, when he suddenly realized that there was someone walking next to him.
Not knowing where this person had come from, he asked

‘Excuse me, but who are you?”

To which the stranger replied ‘I am a ghost. And you?’

Dingbo thought this must be a joke, so he decided to play along and lied,

‘I am also a ghost’.
‘Where are you going?’ asked the ghost.

‘To the market’ answered Dingbo.

‘So am I. Can we go together?’ asked the ghost.

Dingbo agreed and so they walked together for a while.

‘It takes a long time to walk like this. Maybe we can make turns to carry each other,’
suggested the ghost.

“That’s a good idea” replied Dingbo and the ghost offered to carry him first. After
walking a few miles, the ghost said to Dingbo

‘You are so heavy! I don’t think you are a ghost.’

‘I am a new ghost’ protested Dingbo, ‘That’s why I’m so heavy’

When it was Dingbo’s turn to carry the ghost, he picked him up and was shocked to find
how incredibly light his companion was. ‘Perhaps this is a real ghost after all’ he thought
to himself.

They took several more turns, carrying each other. As they neared the market Dingbo,
riding comfortably on the back of the ghost asked

‘I am new, so I don’t know. Can you tell me, what are we ghosts most afraid of?’

‘We don’t like people spitting at us,’ answered the ghost.

They reached a stream that they had to cross and he let Dingbo down so that each could
cross on his own. Dingbo asked the ghost to go first, and the ghost glided silently across
the water. Watching as Dingbo, up to his knees in water, splashed and waded towards
him, the ghost suspiciously asked, ‘If you are a ghost like me, why do you make so much
noise when crossing the stream?’

‘Please forgive me’ pleaded Dingbo, ‘It is because I am new and not used to walking on
water.’ It was now his turn to carry the ghost, and they soon entered the marketplace. He
held the ghost tightly and quickened his steps. Unable to free himself, the ghost shouted
loudly and his voice sounded strange, like a saw on a piece of wood. When they got to
the market center, Dingbo put down the ghost, who immediately turned into a sheep.
Afraid that it would change again, Dingbo spat at the sheep and then sold it for two taels
of silver. With the money, he bought some wine and bread before going home. So a
saying spread sfter that: ‘Dingbo caught a ghost, got home for a toast!’”
For a moment after Long had finished his story, Jim sat in silence. The story was quite
unlike any ghost story he had ever heard. Then he began to giggle at the absurd tale and
asked Long to tell him another one, to help him stay awake.

“Okay” replied Long, “In that case, I’ll tell you an exciting story.”

Chapter Fifteen – The Butcher and the wolves

“A Butcher had been to market to sell his meat and by the time he headed for home, it
was already quite late. It had been a good day for him, and the two baskets he was
carrying on a shoulder pole were empty except for some bones. As he walked, he became
aware of steps behind him, so he looked around and found that two wolves were
following him at a distance. He was afraid, so he threw a bone at them and the one wolf
stopped to gnaw at it. The other wolf was still following him, so he threw another bone
and the wolf stopped to enjoy this tidbit, but now the first wolf had had enough of his
bone and he soon gained on the butcher and followed him quite closely until he threw out
another bone.

Soon all his bones were finished and the two wolves were following him as before.
Frightened, he looked around and saw a big pile of wood. Throwing down his pole and
baskets, he pulled out his knife and rushed to stand with his back against the pile, facing
the two wolves.

The wolves did not dare pounce, but kept circling just out of reach of his knife, staring at
him with their gleaming eyes. After a while, the one wolf slinked off and the butcher sat
for a long time watching the remaining animal. Eventually, the wolf in front of him
seemed to become sleepy and half-closed its eyes. Abruptly, the butcher leaped forward
and with a mighty chop, he cleaved open the wolf’s skull. The unexpected attack caught
the animal by surprise and finding very little resistance, the butcher easily finished it off
with a few well-aimed blows.

As he was straightening up, having made sure that the wolf was quite dead, a sound from
the wood pile alerted him. He turned around and saw the other wolf, already halfway
through the pile, intending to attack him from behind. Using the advantage of the
animal’s limited space, he first chopped its hind legs and then killed it. He was amazed to
realize that the wolf in front had tried to lure him by pretending to be sleepy so that the
other would have enough time to make a hole in the pile of wood from behind. Is it not
interesting that animals are clever enough to also play tricks on man?”

“Yes,” agreed Jim, “That certainly is a very interesting story” but as he said this he was
trying to stifle a great yawn. Two sleepless nights had really been too much for him and
even Long’s stories could no longer keep him awake. Luckily dawn was beginning to
spread across the eastern horizon and Long suggested that they start the journey back to
the temple. They hadn’t gone very far when Jim started to fall behind. He was so tired he
kept dozing off as they walked!
“Perhaps I should carry you” said Long and Jim, having no energy left to argue, agreed
and was soon fast asleep on his friend’s back.

Chapter Sixteen – The Lady in the Moon

A continuous dull pang in his stomach prodded Jim out of sleep. It was dark again. He
rubbed his eyes and realized that he was lying in bed, back in the temple. Collecting
himself, he sat up and swung his feet off the bed, trying not to wake Long, who was
sleeping in the next room. As he sat on the edge of the bed waiting for his eyes to become
accustomed to the dark, a lamp lit up suddenly and Long walked in.

“When did we get back?” asked Jim.

“A while ago. It is just after midnight now” came the reply.

Just then, Jim’s stomach let out another audible rumble. Long smiled and said

“You must be hungry - you didn’t eat anything before you went to sleep.”

“Yes, but I was exhausted!” exclaimed Jim.

“Come, let’s eat something” said Long, and led him to a table set with food and dishes.
To his surprise, Jim found a knife and fork placed in front of him. However, all questions
about where the knife and fork had come from or who had prepared the meal disappeared
as Jim hungrily tucked into the food. For a while he ate as though he was never going to
stop. When he had at last eaten his fill, he sat back with a satisfied smile and thanked
Long for the food.

“It is a pleasure. What would you like to do now?

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can go back to sleep just yet, I’m still too full”

“Well, there is a full moon out tonight, maybe we should fly out and have a look at it”
suggested Long.

They went to the waterfall and Jim was again astounded by the magnificence of the
rushing water.

“This time we will change our transport” said Long and began to paint.

First he painted two folding fans and a thin mattress. Then he dipped his brush in the
waterfall and seemed to paint the air in front of him. Jim saw a smoky wisp form as Long
painted. The wisp became thicker and fuller until there was a cloud, floating in the air.
Long placed the mattress on the cloud and to Jim’s astonishment, the mattress did not fall
through the cloud as one would expect. He was still gaping when Long handed him one
of the fans and told him to get on the mattress. Gingerly, Jim stepped up onto the mattress,
expecting it to sink under his weight, but it didn’t shift an inch. He looked at the cloud
closely and saw that it was moving and swirling in upon itself the whole time, but
floating steadily in one place.

Long shouted that he should fan hard at the water when they approached the falls and
then indicated that they should turn back to back. Long started fanning the air backwards
and the cloud floated steadily towards the waterfall. Jim fanned energetically and the
water in front of him parted as they came closer. For a few beats of Jim’s heart it was
strangely silent around them as they coasted comfortably through the hole. Then the
water seemed to crash back extra loudly, before the familiar gush continued.

Around and far beneath them, the mountaintops, cliffs and valleys lay crystallized in
moonlight and silence. Their cloud was joined by others that sailed along like banners of
the finest silvery silk, sometimes momentarily engulfing them before being pushed
onwards by the breeze. They did not move on with these, however. It seemed to Jim that
their cloud was a bit like a boat on water – one used the fans like oars to row through the
air. Settling down on the mattress, they spent a few minutes practicing and Jim found that
it was easiest to move by simply fanning in the opposite direction of where they wanted
to go.

“Look up Jim. What do you see on the moon?” asked Long.

Jim looked up. “I see some shadows across the surface of the moon” he replied.

“Can you see a tree?”

“I see something that could be a tree.”

“We call that a lay tree. It is a rabbit and a cane toad together.” What is a lay tree? Why
does it look like a rabbit and a cane toad? What is a cane toad?

“What do you mean?”

“We have a story about a lady who lives on the moon” said Long dreamily.

“Why does she live there?” asked Jim. Intrigued by this unusual explanation, he stared up
at the bright moon.

“Well, actually it is not her doing. She is Chang’E, you see, who was the beautiful wife
of Yi, the great shooter and they were both originally gods. There were ten suns, who
were the sons of the supreme heavenly god. When they played together, they gave off too
much heat and so Yi shot down nine of them, thus making the heavenly god extremely
angry. As punishment, the couple was sent down to earth to live as mortals, doomed to
die and live in hell.
The sudden change from living as an immortal god to suffering for your day to day
existence, as a human, greatly depressed Chang’E and she resented her husband for his
rash behaviour. Yi loved his wife and so he searched high and low and finally found an
elixir which, if taken, would turn ordinary people into immortals.

He brought the elixir home and explained to Chang’E what they needed to do. However,
one of his neighbours overheard their conversation and hurried back to his wife. Together,
these two decided that they wanted to be immortal too, so they crept around to Yi and
Chang’E’s house, planning to steal the elixir.

Yi and Chang’E were about to take the elixir together when Yi heard his neighbour
calling him from outside. As Yi went out to speak to him, the neighbour’s wife slipped
into the room and tried to snatch the elixirs away. In a moment of desperation, Chang’E
swallowed both doses. This overdose made her float up, further and further away from
the earth. She flew up to the moon and she has stayed there ever since, with only a rabbit
and a cane toad to keep her company.”

“What about Yi? What happened to him?”

“He was so sad that he wanted to shoot down the moon to bring his wife back, but he did
not, for fear of hurting her. So for the rest of his life, they watched each other over the
great distance, until Yi’s death.”

Wanting to have a closer look at Chang’E and the lay tree, Jim fanned downward and
they moved higher and higher. It suddenly became extremely cold and realizing that they
were too high, Long quickly fanned upward and they began to descend.

“What a pity” said Jim, “I would have liked to see the moon up close.” Then he gave a
contented sigh and lay back on the mattress. “It is so beautiful here. It feels as though
there is music coming from the stars. I could stay like this forever.”

His words reminded Long of something else and he sat up excitedly. “Come,” he said,
“Let’s go on a little trip”.

“Where are we going?” Jim asked, puzzled.

“To Hubei Province” came the reply and, although it was almost 2000 kilometers away,
the distance was no problem for them, riding on the cloud and mist and they arrived at
their destination in almost no time at all.

Chapter Seventeen – The Terrace of Ancient Music

Under the same bright moon, Jim saw a sprawling terrace, engraved with four large
characters.

“What is this place, Long?”

“This is the Terrace of Ancient Music” replied Long.

“Is that what these characters tell us?”

“No. These characters mean ‘High Mountains Flowing Streams’. They refer to the story
of Boya. He was an intellectual and a highly skilled zither player. When he had free time,
he would go for walks high in the mountains or along streams and waterfalls. The beauty
and solitude of nature greatly inspired him and he played the most wonderful music to the
water and the earth.”

“But if he was so talented, why did he not play before people?”

“Although he had superb skill, no one understood his music. Then one day, he had some
business in Hubei and he traveled down the river by boat. It was a mid-autumn night and
he was standing in the boat on a calm river, the bright moon high in the sky sparkling on
the water and dissolving into a thousand bits of light. He was so enchanted by the scene
that he took out his zither and began to play. His music floated out across the night,
breaking like the moonlight against the banks of the river. As he finished playing he
heard someone applauding, and a man carrying two bundles of wood came walking out
of the darkness.

‘Excuse me, please!’ said the woodcutter, ‘I came back late from the mountains today. I
heard your music and couldn’t help cheering, please forgive my rash behaviour.’

Boya was very surprised to meet someone who seemed to genuinely appreciate his music.
And this man was just a woodcutter! Not quite convinced by the man’s show of interest,
Boya invited him into the boat. The woodcutter accepted and putting down his bundles of
fuel, he stepped into the boat.

Boya handed him the zither and asked if he knew anything about the instrument. The man
held it gently in his work-worn hands and turned it over, carefully examining it. He then
explained not only its origin, but also its function in detail.

‘But please,’ he exclaimed when he had finished his inspection, ‘Allow your fingers to let
the instrument tell its own story!’

Taking the zither from him, Boya agreed, saying, ‘I will play a piece that speaks of that
which I am thinking of. Can you tell me the meaning of the music?’

‘I would like to have a try’ the man replied.

So Boya started playing and the music he plucked from the strings was earth and valley,
rocks and trees spreading up and around them, towering over them and engulfing them.
‘Ah!’ said the woodcutter, ‘What you are expressing is the power and grandeur of a high
mountain.’

Impressed, Boya nodded and began another tune. This time his fingers seemed to flow
freely, gently along the strings and the music carried them along on unhurried ripples.

‘This is the peace of flowing water’ came the woodcutter’s immediate response.

Overjoyed, Boya stood up and bowed to the man, asking for his name. The man replied,
saying that his name was Ziqi and that he lived in a village not too far away.

‘Ziqi, you are the only man who has ever understood my music. Please, you must become
my sworn brother.’

After a simple ceremony, they sat down again to drink and chat until dawn came, when
the boat was scheduled to leave. Having just met such a good friend, they were each very
sad to say goodbye so soon and they arranged to meet again on the next mid-autumn day.

The twelve months passed swiftly and on the appointed day, Boya eagerly took a boat
and again arrived at the place where they had last parted. He looked for his friend, his
sworn brother, but Ziqi was not there. He waited until midnight and still Ziqi did not
come. Thinking that he must have forgotten the appointment, Boya sat down and began
to play his music, hoping that his friend would hear and remember to come and meet him.
When he had finished playing he waited for another hour, but there was no sign of Ziqi.

Frustrated, Boya decided to go to the village to look for his friend in person. At the
entrance to the village, he came across an old man.

‘Excuse me, I am Boya and I am looking for Ziqi. Do you know where I can find him?’
he asked.

At this, the old man began to weep and explained that he was Ziqi’s father.

‘A disease took my son a month ago’ he said, wiping the tears from his cheeks, ‘His last
wish was to be buried on the riverside, so that he could hear your music from his grave.’

Boya was overcome by sadness at this news. He asked the old man to show him his
friend’s grave. At the riverside, in front of Ziqi’s tomb, Boya could no longer contain his
grief and he wept for this man who had known so much. He took out his zither and
played. As he played, high mountains and flowing water spread from under his fingers
and all around it was so quiet, it seemed as though the entire world had stopped to listen.
Suddenly the music stopped abruptly and a twanging sound pierced the darkened silence
as, one by one, Boya snapped off the strings. Then he took the naked zither and brutally
smashed it on the cold stones of the tomb. Without his understanding friend, he would
never play again.”
“What a pity!” exclaimed Jim “It must be very hard to make such a good friend, only to
lose him so soon.”

“Nowadays we use the term ‘music knowing’ to refer to a friend who is keenly
appreciative of one’s talents” explained Long.

The distinctive caw of a lone crow answered by another, further along the river, heralded
the coming of the dawn. As the first light penetrated the shadows of the terrace, the boys
turned back home, riding the cloud.

Chapter Eighteen – Que and the King of Cai

Jim found that he was growing accustomed to traveling so high above the earth and it
easier to look down at the scenery so far below him. As they were passing over a city, his
eye was caught by a large red cross atop a hospital’s roof.

“I hear that traditional Chinese medical science is wonderful” he said to Long,

“Apparently the methods of diagnosing and treating patients are quite different from that
of Western doctors. Do you know of any famous Chinese doctors?”

“Oh yes!” laughed Long, “Of course, we have many famous doctors in history. But I
think the two most famous were Que and Tuo. People called them the ‘miracle-working’
doctors.”

“Really? Why? What kind of miracles did they do?”

“Well, Que was a doctor in the Warring States Period when? One day he paid a visit to
the king of Cai and after studying the king for a while he told the king that he had a
disease that needed to be treated accordingly, before it became worse. The king did not
feel ill and he told Que that he was healthy and in perfect condition. Que had to respect
the king’s authority and so he left his court without saying anything more. Once Que had
gone, the king grumbled to his ministers that doctors liked treating healthy people, just to
show off their skill and the ministers, wanting to please the king, laughed and agreed with
him.

Ten days later, when Que again visited the king, he saw that the disease had spread to the
skin and he urged the king to let him treat it, emphasising the need for timely prevention.
The stubborn king again refused to listen to him and as Que left the ministers were all
congratulating the king for being wise enough not to fall for the doctor’s tricks.

Another ten days passed and Que visited the king for a third time. He watched the king
then told him that the disease had spread to his stomach and soon it would be too late if
he still refused to get proper treatment. Indifferent to Que’s advice, the king became
annoyed and Que left the court amid the barely concealed sniggering of the ministers.
The fourth time Que came to visit the king, he turned and left again as soon as he saw
him, without saying a word. Intrigued, the king sent his men to ask Que the reason for
this. Que replied, telling them:

‘The first time I saw His Majesty the King, his disease was only starting and I could
easily have cured it with some herbal medicine. The second time the disease had spread
to his skin, but I could still use acupuncture and moxibustion (What is this? Needs
explanation) to treat him. The third time it was already in his stomach, but I could have
saved him using a cupping jar treatment. But if the disease spreads to the marrow, it is
fatal and I can do nothing. Now, His Majesty’s disease is deadly and incurable, so it is
useless for me to talk anymore.’

Five days later, the king felt pain all over his body. He had his men look for Que, but
found that Que had already fled to another kingdom. The king died the next day.”

“So Que could tell people’s disease just by looking at them?” asked Jim, incredulous.

“Yes, but only the top doctors can make a correct diagnosis just through observation,
which is one of the four methods of diagnosis. The other three are by sound and smell,
questioning and feeling the pulse and use of the hands.”

“And the other doctor you mentioned also used these four methods?”

“Yes, but he also used many other methods. In fact, he was the first Chinese surgeon.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Tuo. He lived in the Three Kingdoms Period about 1700 years ago.”

“I suppose he must have done a number of surgical operations. Don’t you think it would
be interesting to see how ancient people did operations?”

“Well, we could always go and have a look. So long as you don’t pass out when seeing so
much blood!”

Laughing, Jim replied, “No problem!” then, remembering how unsettled he had been by
the blood on the battlefield, he added “Anyway, we can leave anytime we don’t want to
watch, right?”

“Of course we can. You are my guest, so it is all up to you!” Long smiled.

So, instead of returning to the temple, they went back to the magic calendar from where
they once again traveled back in time to watch a famous surgical operation taking place
1700 years ago.
Chapter Nineteen – Tuo the Surgeon.

Long again painted the invisible suit and Magic Traveler Boots for Jim and they made
good time towards their destination. They were heading for Hubei Province once more,
but this was the time of military confrontation between the armies of Cao Cao and Lord
Guan and instead of the Terrace of Ancient Music bathed in moonlight they were now in
the central camp of Lord Guan. Long led the way through the many soldiers to where
Lord Guan was sitting, playing chess with his friend to divert himself whilst waiting for a
doctor.

Lord Guan was suffering from a wound caused by a poisoned arrow in his right arm
during a fight. The wound was serious and would not heal and his commanders,
becoming increasingly concerned for their leader had already consulted several of the
best doctors, but none of them knew the proper treatment. Now, they had summoned Tuo,
the most famous doctor of his time, who came to help in respect for the renowned hero.

Tuo arrived and, after the formalities, was offered a seat. After tea was served, Tuo asked
to examine the wound and Lord Guan stretched out his bare arm. Examining the wound
closely, Tuo said

“This is from a crossbow. There is aconite infiltrating the bone. The arm will be useless if
not treated soon.”

“I need this arm to fight” frowned Lord Guan, “I am a soldier.”

“I can save it, but I am afraid your Lordship might shrink from the treatment.”

With a smile, Lord Guan responded, “To me, death is my homecoming. I will not
shrink.”

“This is what I am going to do,” continued Tuo, “In a quiet room we will have to set up a
post with a loop nailed to the top. I will ask you to put your arm through the loop and
have it tied and I will cover your head with a blanket. Then I will cut through to the bone
with a razor and scrape the poison off the bone. After applying some medicine, I will sew
up the wound. Nothing will happen to you and my only worry is that you may not stand
up to the surgery.”

“Is that all?” came Lord Guan’s reply, “It won’t bother me a bit. And the post and loop
are unnecessary. We will do it without them.”

He then ordered a feast set forth and after a few cups of wine, resumed his game of chess
as he extended his arm and instructed Tuo to begin the operation. Jim could see the light
sheen of perspiration forming on Tuo’s forehead as he instructed an attendant to hold a
basin under the arm to catch the blood. He took out his knife saying
“I am ready”, then added, almost more to himself than to his patient, “Have no fear!”

“Go ahead” replied Lord Guan, not even bothering to look up from his game “Don’t think
I will shrink like a common fellow.”

Gingerly, Tuo made a neat cut along the wound and then parted the flesh, exposing the
bone, which was already coated green. The knife made a thin, grating sound as it scraped
the surface of the bone, until everyone present went pale and turned their faces, including
Long and Jim.

Jim was having trouble with a wave of nausea as he watched the blood drip steadily into
the basin and had to force himself to keep breathing. He looked away from the arm to
Lord Guan’s face and saw no trace of pain as the soldier continued to eat and drink,
laughing and talking as he continued his game.

When Tuo had finished scraping the wound, applying the medicine and sewing the
wound shut, Lord Guan rose from his seat, saying

“I feel much better now. There is no pain at all. Master, you are indeed a miracle-working
physician!”

Bowing low, Tuo replied, “In a lifetime of practice, I have never seen anything like this.
Most of my patients screamed with pain and I had to tie them down during the operation.
It is your Lordship who is more than human.”

As the news of the miraculous surgery spread through the camp, a steady stream of
curious people filed through to see Lord Guan and express their pleasure and relief at his
recovery. The thickening crowd made the two boys nervous and as they had seen the
remarkable surgery, they made their way past the throng towards the camp’s exit.

Coming out of the camp, Jim asked Long the question that had been puzzling him
throughout the operation,

“Why didn’t Tuo just apply an anaesthetic?”

“Anaesthetic hasn’t been invented yet. Almost half the patients operated on in this time
died of pain during an operation. In his later years, Tuo did invent a type of anaesthetic,
with which he performed quite a few successful operations, including an appendectomy.”

“That must have been quite an advance in Chinese medicine!” exclaimed Jim admiringly.

“Yes, most of his inventions were very beneficial. Unfortunately, since he died in jail,
many of his inventions were lost or forgotten.”

“Why was he jailed? Who would jail such a marvelous healer?”

“I’m not sure. Remember how Que fled the city because he knew he couldn’t cure the
king anymore? I suppose something similar must have happened to Tuo and he wasn’t
lucky enough to escape.”

Pondering this, Jim mused “It seems a pity that powerful people can make such bad
decisions. Imagine how many people could have been helped if Tuo’s inventions had
been recorded and used.”

“Yes” agreed Long, “Sometimes a ruler’s pride overwhelms his reason and then he
makes decisions that aren’t good for the people he rules.”

They headed for the calendar, which sent them back to their own time. As they watched
the clock return to its vertical position against the cliff face, Long turned to Jim and said

“Jim, we need to leave tomorrow.”

“But why? We’ve only been here a few days and we have at least three weeks of holiday
left!” Jim cried out, confused.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you earlier, but one day in ancient times is equal to one
week in the present day. We’ve spent about four days back in history, so four weeks have
passed already. Do you regret losing that time?”

Jim thought about this for a while, then smiled and replied “No, not at all! I’m just sorry
that we don’t have another four weeks to do more time traveling. Everything that
happened was so incredible and I feel as if I have been in a dream. I enjoyed every
minute.”

“I have one more thing that I think you would like to see. Let’s return to the temple for
supper and then I will show you” replied Long.

Chapter Twenty – The Garden

When they had finished supper back at the temple, Long said “Let’s go for a walk” and,
to Jim’s surprise, led him to the opposite side of the temple, where he opened a door that
Jim had failed to notice previously.

Through the open door, Jim smelled fresh grass and the sweet evening scent of plants and
flowers. They entered into a garden filled with plum trees and peach trees in full bloom
and the tinkling voice of a warm stream from the waterfall meandered through the
orchards and cut through the center of the garden. They followed the curves of a path
some way through the trees, until they came to a place where the stream formed a deep,
dark pool next to which stood a large stone table and seated themselves on the stone
stools that were placed around it.

“This place is breathtaking” remarked Jim, staring around him in awe. “What is it?”
“This is where I used to learn magic painting” came the reply.

Looking closely at they pool, Jim realised that, although the stream was perfectly clear,
the pool was dark and inky, and he couldn’t see the bottom.

“Long, why is the water in the pool so black?” he asked, curious.

“This is where my master and I wash our magic brushes. We usually change the water in
the pool once a week, when it gets dirty enough.”

“How long did it take you to learn magic painting?”

“Six hours a day for the first two years and after that you need to practice for at least an
hour every day, otherwise the magic will disappear.”

“And your master still practices every day?”

“Yes, of course. Both of us do. That is why the pool is always black with ink.”

“Do you think you could teach me to paint?” asked Jim.

“Well, I can teach you how to paint, but it can’t be a magic painting.”

“Why not?”

“You must be born a painter before you can paint magic.”

“Maybe my sister Alice can do that. She likes painting. Actually, she’s very good at it.”

“Really? But it still takes at least two years and then she must stay here. Most importantly,
she must get the approval of my master first.”

“Do you think I could come again next year with my sister?” asked Jim, eager to get a
positive answer.

“No, not next year. It will be our turn to visit your country next year, right? So maybe the
year after next.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right, I forgot. But I really hate to leave. There are still so many things
that I wish to see!”

“Don’t worry, you will see them all! I think that next time you come, I will also bring
Mei. She and your sister should get on well together” suggested Long.
“Yes, that’s a great idea!” exclaimed Jim, remembering how impressed he had been by
Long’s pleasant, smart young cousin.

By now, the day had faded and the night’s veil of mist was pulling across the mountain
top, so they went back inside the temple. It was quite early and as it was the last night
that they would spend in the temple, they did not feel like going to bed just yet. So Long
made them some tea and they sat by candlelight in a small corner of the room and chatted.

Chapter Twenty-one – The Death of the Giant Pangu

They spoke for a while about everything they had experienced.

“One of the things I find most interesting about our experience, is the way time changes
when you travel back. It feels strange to think that so much time has passed, when you’ve
only experienced four days worth of time” remarked Jim.

“Yes, time becomes very different when you play around with it like that” replied Long.

“It reminds me of that Bible story, where God creates the world in seven days” continued
Jim. Then, struck by a new thought, asked, “Do you have an essential book like our holy
Bible in your family?”

“No, different families have different books. We don’t have essential books, not even the
books by Confucious. But I know the story of which you speak. We Chinese have a
different story about how the world came into being.”

“Really? How is it different?”

“Well, they say that before, when the earth and sky had not been separated, they were a
chaotic and undifferentiated mass, fastened together like a great egg. In this egg, our
ancestor Pangu what does this mean? awoke one day from his long sleep to find the ugly
darkness of a world still unborn. Groping in the darkness he found an axe with which he
hacked at the primal chaos and suddenly the chaos shattered. As he swung his axe around,
the heavy and the light elements moved about. The light elements rose, joined together
and became heaven. The heavy elements sank and congealed and turned into earth.

Pangu then pushed the heaven upward with his hands and the earth downward with his
feet and they moved farther apart. He himself grew and continued to push them both until
he became an enormous giant. Thus Pangu stood for eighteen thousand years, pushing the
heaven and the earth further and further apart. It is said that he stood nineteen thousand
miles high, like a huge pillar holding the world in place. And when the world stabilised,
Pangu stopped growing.

One day, he felt a great weariness and he let go of his grip on heaven. He fell down and
died of exhaustion. Along with his death, the world as we know it came into being:
The last breath out of his mouth became the wind and the clouds.

His dying sigh turned into our thunder.

The perspiration of his body became our rain and dew.

His eyes became the sun and the moon.

His hair and beard became the stars.

His flesh became our fields and pastures.

His legs and arms became our mountains, his blood our rivers.

The hair on his body became our plants and trees and his teeth and bones our rocks and
minerals.

The marrow of his bones became the jade and jewels we find in the rocks.

And the passages in his body through which flowed his vital energy became the paths and
roads by which we ourselves move through the world.

And thus the giant Pangu sacrificed his whole strength and the whole of his body to
create the world.”

“Yes, it’s different, but very beautiful” commented Jim when Long had finished.

Long shrugged. “It’s just a myth. No one is certain what really happened. It was such a
long time ago.” Stifling a yawn, he added “Perhaps it is time to go to bed?”

Jim agreed that sleep was a good idea. After readying himself for bed, he went to Long’s
room to say good night. He realised that he had never seen the room before and was
surprised to find that Long slept on a flat rock surface covered with a thin layer of dry
leaves, instead of a bed.

“Why do you sleep like this, Long?” he exclaimed in surprise.

“It’s good for a growing body to sleep on a hard bed. I’ve been sleeping like this for
years. Even at home, I sleep on a bed without a mattress.”

“Can I try it?”

“Sure, but it probably isn’t very comfortable if you aren’t used to it.”

Jim lay down on the bed, but it wasn’t long before the hardness made his bones ache.
Sitting up he remarked,
“I don’t know how anyone can have a nice, comfortable rest on a bed like that. It’s like
suffering torture!” he commented. Long just laughed at his friend as he bade him
goodnight, and Jim left the room, puzzling about how Long managed to go to sleep at all
on such a hard bed.

Chapter Twenty-two – The end of the visit

The next morning the two boys rose early and while they were having breakfast, Long’s
master came in again, to say goodbye to Jim. Jim managed to say “Thank you Master”
and “Goodbye” in Chinese which caused the kind old man to laugh a little.

They took the same tunnel back to the small old temple on the North Peak of Cool
Mountain, where they again met the old monk who smiled at Jim instead of greeting him.
Their descent down the mountain was easy after the initial steep climb and Jim found
himself enjoying the sharp mountain air and the scenery far more this time. He and Long
kept up a steady conversation as they climbed and he asked Long

“Do you take your magic brush with you when you leave the mountain?”

“No. I’m not allowed to use it once I’ve left the waterfall temple.”

“But can you still paint pictures like dragons or clouds with a normal brush?” asked Jim.

“Yes of course, but they are just pictures. There is no magic.”

“Can anyone else who uses that magic brush paint magic pictures?”

“No. It will be no use to them. The brush does not soak ordinary ink.”

The boys returned to Taiyuan by bus and Jim spent one more evening at Long’s house.
The next morning, as Long was seeing Jim off at the train station, he reminded Jim not to
reveal his unusual experience to anyone else.

“I promise the secret is safe with me! After all, I want to come again” pledged Jim.

“Yes, if all goes according to plan, we will see each other again next year.”

As they said goodbye, the two friends promised to keep in touch through email and as
Jim’s train pulled out of the station towards Beijing, where he would meet the other
students and fly back to America, both boys thought with excitement of the next time
they would see each other to continue their friendship and adventures together.